Confrontation
by C. C. Cr0ss
Summary: "He could still hear his voice, the one only he could hear… it kept on whispering, muttering things he could not understand. Was he hiding in the depths of his mind? Or was he becoming insane?" A fic for Ryou's birthday! One-Shot. Could be slash if the reader wants it to be.


_Confrontation._

* * *

_He was always alone._

Not because he wanted to be, he needed to; his life was based out of accidents provoked by a mind that wasn't his own…  
Not so long ago, he believed that the spirit was gone with ring itself, but he couldn't help to notice that every once in a while he didn't know what he had done… His reflection was always the same; he had thought he was hallucinating when he saw dull and angry eyes when he stood in front of a mirror.  
How wrong had he been?  
He could still hear his voice, the one only he could hear… it kept on whispering, muttering things he could not understand. Calling his name in the depths of the night, making him believe he had woken up from a bad dream, when in truth he hadn't.  
Was he hiding in the depths of his mind? Or was he becoming insane? Maybe both.  
He couldn't help to see his reflection changing form, making him see a part of him that wasn't him himself, but that was his at the same time.  
He couldn't help to stare into those dead orbs, he couldn't stop the laughing that echoed in his ears – and he wanted it to stop. He couldn't help to slam his fist against the mirror, breaking it into pieces; until he could see both sides of his mind… he could only see his own scared face… until he found those devilish eyes, and that sarcastic smirk… He would never care about the blood falling off of his knuckles, dropping into the floor, painting the small shards with the obscure scarlet liquid.  
His chest would ache, his arm would sting and his right hands wouldn't be able to move. Then a cold lifeless laugh would scape past his lips when he covered half of his face with his blood stained fingers.  
Was he able to mutter he had not come back…?  
He would hear that laugh again, and he would laugh along with his memories… He would laugh at his own stupid thoughts… He wasn't going to be back, was he? He wouldn't come back… He was gone! He truly was… he was gone - he'd never come back… right? He could only shiver with fear… but he was frankly afraid that the depths and darkest places of his mind were expecting him to return… Was he crazy for missing him? At least when he was with him… he was not completely alone… But when he thought of it, he couldn't help to wonder if the rest of his vengative soul had died with him or not… if it was that way, and that soul that wasn't trapped in the ring had dies with the body… was he…?  
No… oh, but he could!  
He could be the kind soul of the thief that lost everything he had… How come he would be able to perfectly picture all of what he told him once? They did share a body, but the feelings were far too real… Was he The Thief King Bakura, himself? Was he the same soul? Maybe he was… was he what would have become of him if the events of Kul Elna had never happened…? Or had his soul been forgiven by the years? Had he been able to forgive and forget everything? Maybe it was the reason he never felt complete… Had his deceased sister and mother been his family in the past? Had his father ignored him then? Or was he actually becoming insane and that whole theory was stupid?  
Oh… but he was a genius, wasn't he?  
Had he been stupid his whole life, he would have called that theory idiotic but had he asked someone if they thought the same - had Yuugi never told him it was a good theory, he would have been keen on believing he had been sugar high or too tired when he thought that. But he could swear the theory had been started by the voice… He could have sworn he had muttered something that hadn't left his mind since…

_-I'm not happy with what I've become…_

… was he talking about himself? Or was he saying those words to him? He didn't even want to know anymore, but wasn't he known for being curious?  
Cursing under his breath, he'd try to talk to the voice; he would stare into those dead orbs… He would start talking to it, and the other wouldn't make a sound… But he could still hear his voice; he could still see how those lips would curve upwards in his reflection when he called him by his true name:

_-Bakura… please answer me._

… And he would start laughing again.

_-Do you really think that I would ever let you go?*_ – And he would laugh again… confusing the other.

His already wounded hand would be full of new scars that would disappear unlike the oldest of them… The one that was a perfect circle… One of the first the laughing spirit had caused.  
He smashed the mirror into small pieces… summing another seven years of bad luck to the number. Had he believed the curses, he wouldn't have broken it at all – but he didn't really believe in luck, his destiny had destroyed his hopes and wishes that such thing as luck existed… After all, he was meant to grow faster than any other child his age. Like the spirit of the ring was forced to…

If one thought about it, they weren't as different as he had thought… Yes, the other was insane, but wasn't he losing his mind over the theory? Wasn't he into the occult just like the other was? Or maybe the other had gained that obsession with the curiousness his 'landlord' had… Or maybe the presence of the ring itself had made the other wonder why it felt so heavy between his hands.  
One was an artist who loved details – the other said that how he stole was and art, and in some sort of way… he had to admit that the fact he wasn't caught, was remarkable…but he would never accept that out loud. Both of them… they lost their family, their friends – thought the dark self lost everything he had, while the other still had his father – even though he was constantly ignored, he was still there. One resented a three thousand years old soul, the other did, too. And the list could go on, though… sincerely, I don't know what I would say if someone wanted the whole list… But, indeed their way to see the world, were both unique and exquisite, though the smaller one was more kind with it… the other, not so much.

But, then again, could anyone blame him?

Both of them were stronger than anyone could know. In fact – Ryou could have survived the attack of the God card, had he not been so tired. He could have lived, but… the other wanted to be sure nothing would happen to him. He still needed him at the time. But then again, he had forgotten that even in childhood he was not only able to bear the ring, but he hadn't burnt to ashes as a few of the ones before him – though, he had lived so long he could only remember three before him – the priest, himself and a girl a few thousands of years ago; with long white hair. What an irony was it not? But that is a story for another day and another time which may never come.

Before the youngest lost the elder's trust, he was only able to see him as the little boy with no real friends, the one that loved his family more than anything and whose best friends was his sister. He could only see something -_ someone_ he needed to protect, not for the fact he needed him alive… just because he didn't want him to grow up to be like him.

The child was becoming so much like him; after accident took place killing his mother and sister, he became a bit cold. He stopped smiling. And _he_ could hear them.  
He heard their voices just as much as the child did. And by the time the voices were fading away, he tried his best to keep hearing them – even though he knew it tore him apart.

He couldn't recognize himself as he took the first glance of his face in the mirror anymore, and the dark spirit would take control at the moment he would be able to see his own eyes… and he would be the one breaking the mirror - for he feared the sanity of the child as he stared at the broken shards and he would be able to see kind eyes again staring back at him, pleading for something he couldn't give. And he would feel a hole in the pit of his stomach, and his throat tightening. And he would do the same thing he had seen the child do – oh, so many times. He traced the lines of a scar he hadn't felt for a long time. He was afraid the child did so because he felt something was missing.

He hoped that was not it, because… he too, wondered if they were the same.

The End.

* * *

Lack of creativity in the end. I know. I suck :)

So... the reason I decided to finish this by September 2nd... was:

Happy Birthday, Ryou Bakura! :D

Really. The only reason I did this. I love him. SO MUCH. :)

Yeah, the "Do you really think that I would ever let you go?" comes from the lyrics of _Confrontation_ from the musical _Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde -_ which totally inspired this :)

(By the way, this is totally my head cannon - kidding... but it would make sense, you know?)

So, it would be really nice if you reviewed, for whatever reason~ It would be nice :)

And if you remember Ryou's burthday - We love you. :)

C.C. Cr0ss.


End file.
